Winter Sets In

The slate gray abyss presses down upon
my mountain home,

It forces an uneasy feeling upon us
And causes Maw to snip at us.

“Was you born in a barn?”

“Don’t track in that mud!”

“Deed in God, ain’t you got a lick of sense?”

My wisecracking brother can’t help himself and responds:

“I don’t know, Maw, was I?”

“If they ain’t no tracks, how will it find its way back outside?”

“I reckon not, why do you keep asking?”

A glance out the kitchen window confirms
what is already known. The cold spell isn't letting up.

“I sure wish this ol’ weather would break,” Maw says,
as she returns to kneading her bread dough.

Wintertime Realization

Germany Valley, Pendleton County, WV. Photo courtesy of R. Jason Burns.

"These Dark & Dreary Days"

by Matthew Burns

These dark, dreary days of winter,
Press down upon my soul,
And leach the life from me,
Like a succubus in the night.

Once I was like a seed in the ground,
Waiting, germinating, hopeful.
But the bitter, lifeless days have surrounded me.
And cloaked me with their siphoning darkness.

The light on my path is extinguished.
I realize now with maudlin clarity,
It was these dark, dreary days of winter,
That incubated my soul.

Wordless Wednesday

March Awaits

Photo courtesy of Adam L. Cox.

March Awaits
by Matthew Burns, 2009

March awaits just over the horizon
So close but still a world away,
While I sit despondent in the bleakness
Of the land that time forgot.

Promises wear thin
As the wolf beats on the door,
And the dark February winter yields
Little hope for a brighter day.

I look to the past
With its silver bells and festive garments,
Now musty, dusty and old
And ponder their futility.

Signs point
To a new day dawning,
Though they remain barely discernible
As March awaits just over the horizon.

These Dark & Dreary Days

These dark, dreary days of winter,
Press down upon my soul,
And leach the life from me,
Like a succubus in the night.

Once I was like a seed in the ground,
Waiting, germinating, hopeful.
But the cold, lifeless days have surrounded me.
And cloaked me with their siphoning darkness.

The light on my path is extinguished,
I realize now with maudlin clarity,
It was these dark, dreary days of winter,
That incubated my soul.

Winter Memories

Today I'm going to post an old photo from Pendleton County. The photo comes courtesy of my cousin Darlene Wilton (we're cousins several different ways), and this photo is one of my absolute favorites. I think the photo just says so much on so many levels. It says "Welcome Home", it says "Remember", it says "Refuge", it says "Family", it says "Winter".

The two men in the photo are relatives of mine. As I understand it, the man leaning on the fence is Clint Thompson, the other fellow with the squirrel on his chest is Clinton Bennett. Clinton Bennett was Darlene's (who shared the photo with me) grandfather. The photo was taken near Spruce Knob, the highest point in West Virginia.

What does this photo say to you?

Photo courtesy of Darlene Wilton

Snow

The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.